Dude, It's Him!
by BlackIceAngel
Summary: Van Helsing crossover. They were pulled into another dimension, attacked by villagers and rescued by the most unlikely person. Now trapped in a classic horror novel they must fight the forces of evil for any hope of making it home, or surviving.
1. Frickin Fairies

He could tell it was morning by the sounds the birds were making; they were only this loud between sunrise and ten. Judging by the light that was filtering through the trees around him it would have to be the latter.

Sam Winchester groaned as he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.

He was lying on his back in a clearing, judging by the stiffness in his muscles he had probably lain that way for several hours. He rolled over slowly, muscles protesting loudly at the strain.

'_Crap'_

The good news was: Dean was there, breathing deeply as he lay face down in the dirt. The bags with their weapons were also there with them, but that was it.

The bad news was the fact that they were laying in the middle of a fairy ring. The mushrooms and toadstools arced out gracefully around them in a mockingly perfect way.

Sam pounded his fist into the earth. _No,no,no,no,nonononono…_

"NO!" Sam screamed to the heavens, praying it wasn't true.

Dean's eyes snapped open as he launched to his feet, he spun around in a quick circle, searching for the danger.

"What?!" He barked missing the problem entirely.

Sam looked up at him blinking slowly, his body slowly shaking with, laughter?

"Dude, Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean ordered looking down at his little brother. Sam just laughed harder, but now Dean could tell the difference. This wasn't 'I'm laughing because it's funny' laugh, it was more of an 'I'm laughing, because if I don't I'll be crying' sort of laugh. _Oh shit, this is gonna be real bad, isn't it._

"Look at your feet," Sam choked out pointing loosely finally getting the laughter under control.

Dean looked down at his feet to see the stomped on remains of part of the fairy ring. He had never seen one in person , until last night that is, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"Frickin' Fairies," Dean cursed loudly before sitting down on the ground, hard. There was a moment of silence "So what do you think they did to us?" Dean asked as he picked up part of a toadstool and threw it at Sam's shoe. Sam sighed heavily.

"Last thing I remember was a lot of white light and singing along with a considerable lump on the back of my head," Sam muttered throwing the toadstool back at Dean hitting him in the pant leg.

"So, either we're in fairy land, another time, another place, or another dimension," Dean ticked off on his fingers before chucking the toadstool again and hitting Sam in the shoulder.

"Judging by the trees and underbrush around here I would guess that we were transported to another place, these types of evergreens aren't found in any part or America," Sam rattled off gesturing around him.

"What about Canada, geek boy?" Dean asked picking up another mushroom and throwing it at Sam. Sam ignored him and furrowed his brow thinking hard as he looked up at the massive trees.

"Northern Europe maybe, looks similar to something I studied at Stanford, but not quite the same," Sam finished frowning. Dean looked at his brothers face, confused geek boy was not a good thing, not good at all.

"How do they look different?"

"The trees look older than they should, modern logging should have taken care of any old growth forests like this. That is unless were so far from civilization that no one has ever seen these woods," Sam shrugged and he pushed himself to his feet. Dean followed suit and heaved himself to his feet and grabbed his bag.

"So geek boy," Dean sighed as Sam slung his pack over his shoulder, "Which way will lead us to civilization?" Sam spun in a slow circle taking in key factors for the problem.

"Well, we seem to be up on the side of a rather large hill and there's another hill over there, so I figure we go down into the valley that they make and try to find and follow a water source," Sam muttered pointing in general directions before starting off down the hill.

"Frickin' fairies," Dean muttered hiking his pack into a better position and trudging after Sam.


	2. The Meeting

Hey guys, sorry for the horribly long wait, I meant to update this last thursday, but writers block is my constant companion. I tried to work out what I had, still not to sure if I like it (so if you have ideas, send them in, it will help me serve you)  
I tried to switch points of veiw and it didn't really turn out. Then my computer was being a royal pain in the ass forcing me to jump through a million hoops. I hope you like it, because i'm starting not to... grrrr!

* * *

Walking for hours in uncharted wilderness after waking up from a dirt nap could not in any way be considered 'fun.'

Walking for hours in uncharted wilderness while wearing wet shoes after waking up from a dirt nap in the middle of a fairy ring and having to haul a pack full of lumpy weapons down a hill where there may or may not be civilization, was hell.

"This sucks," Dean groaned after slipping on yet another slime covered rock. The sun had risen high over them and despite the early morning chill it had turned into a warm day, not blisteringly hot, but enough to bring up a sweat.  
The creek bed that they were hiking along had little cover but was filled with rocks and upturned roots to trip and slip on.  
The magic encyclopedia that was Sam's brain had informed Dean that it was spring time in wherever they were, 'because the snow caps hadn't melted enough to fill the creek', _whatever_.

"Yeah, well the valley floor should be just over that rise up ahead," Sam mumbled as he pushed a low hanging branch out of his way as he teetered along the rocks trying not to fall into the pool of water that was underneath his feet.

"What if it's not," Dean shot back, his wet boots and pant legs had started to chafe and rub him raw, and it had put him in a sadistic mood.  
Even with the risk of falling into the water and twisting an ankle on the rocks the creek bed was easier to hike in than the tangled banks beside it.

"Do you have to be so childish?" Sam asked as he turned around to look at Dean.

"How am I being childish?" snarled as he drew even with Sam not really wanting to have the bitching fit that Sam was coming to.

"A hunt went bad, I'm trying to fix it, and all you can do is moan about it," Sam retorted turning as Dean walked past him.

"How are you fixing it Sammy, we've been hiking for hours and all I've got to show for it is blisters. Now maybe you should try to... pull…" Dean stopped short as he reached the top of the small rise that had blocked their view of the rest of the valley.  
Sam quickly hopped over the rocks to stand behind Dean, his jaw slowly dropped open at what he saw.

Spread out below them was a small town, about fifty buildings in all, all in perfect late 1800 (1888) style. The stone and wooden buildings with wood shingle roofs were separated by muddy streets that ran between them, small people in strange clothing moved amongst them like ants in a far away model.

"We're definitely not in Kansas anymore," Dean whispered lowly, as he continued to take in the scene.

"No, no I don't think we are,"

"What should we do?" Dean muttered lowly turning to look at his taller brother. Sam paused for a moment thinking hard.

"Dean we have to go in," He sighed heavily sounding as if it was the last thing he wished to do, "We don't have any sort of food, and we still don't know that much about this place. Our chances of survival are slim to none," Sam reasoned swallowing hard, Dean nodded slowly.

"Well there's no use prolonging the inevitable," Dean muttered as he jumped off the rock that he was standing on and headed toward the old time town.

**VH**

He was surprised that no one had asked who they were, but most had steered clear of the dark stranger and his companion. The man at the inn had just barely been convinced to give them a room, traveling with the bumbling friar had its uses.  
Despite what Carl said, he was a good field man. He couldn't take out the things that went bump in the night, but he could make things a hell of a lot easier.

They had been on their way back to the Vatican in Rome when the Order had contacted them with a new mission.  
Without the control of the Vampires the Werewolf population had started to become out of control.  
The Vampires had always kept them in check, using their brute strength as a weapon against whoever came against them, always keeping the secret.  
Dracula had liked his troops close to home, always within a fortnights travel.

'_Straight from the mouth of hell and right back in,_' He had told Carl after receiving the message, it was his job to hunt evil, but that didn't mean he always had to like it.

_I hate werewolves_, his mind mumbled unconsciously as he sharpened his tojo blades to a deadly edge, he loved those things. He had just put down the second hand held buzz saw and was about to pick up the crossbow when Carl barged through the door.

"Come quick, something's happening," and then he was out the door and running down the halls, _well that was informative_.  
The crossbow would have to wait until later; he was out the door running, two pistols in their holsters.

**SPN**

Maybe coming into the town hadn't been his most brilliant idea ever; they should have just snuck out supplies in the cover of darkness.

Even with the fairly low key appearance of the brothers, in this past time they had been deemed Warlocks, because apparently vampires were extinct.  
Maybe they would understand it they tried to explain that they had been taken from the future by a group of fairies.

_Yeah, that sounds insane even in my head_, Sam grumbled as he parried the blow that a townsman was trying to land with a pitchfork.  
He twisted the improvised weapon out of the man's hands and swatted him in the shoulder with it managing to push him off to the side of the fight.

"Sam! Behind!" Dean shouted from his left, where he was holding his own against what looked like the two local drunks. Turning Sam just caught the blow from another pre-modern tool on the shaft of his pitchfork, the strange head of the tool stopping just short of splitting his skull open.  
Sam was starting to get a real adrenalin rush as he kicked the guy in the chest, a little less inclined to not hurt him.

Popping the head off the pitchfork he spun it like a bow staff with one hand as he waited for the rest of the gathering villagers to attack.

**VH**

The two men fought with a skill and moves that even he had never seen. The taller of the two was deftly wielding what looked to have been a pitchfork in his hands while the other used only his hands as weapons.

_And they're not hurting anybody,_ he mused as he leaned against the doorframe of the inn, he could see the butt of a shotgun sticking out of a dropped pack.

"Are you going to help them?" Carl asked looking almost as frantic as the time a village such as this had been attacked by Vampires.

"Which should I help?" He asked nonchalantly staring down at the friar.

"You should help them defeat the Warlocks," Carl said pointing to the two men.

"They're not Warlocks."

"Then what are they?"

It was a good question; he had seen cases like this before, with the Frankenstein Monster. Tainted and stained with evil, just keeping it at bay as it tried to creep in, yet not ruled by the evil. He was about to answer his friend when another townsman entered the fray.

Judging by his clothes and condition he was probably the town blacksmith, body made up of rippling muscle from pounding steel in the fires all day, this made the heavy sapling in his hands even more deadly.

Pistol in hand he was out of the door frame and off the porch as soon as the man pulled the heavy bow from behind his back.

**SPN**

Sam and Dean tried to stay back to back in the fight but with so many opponents it was nearly impossible. They were constantly getting pushed or pulled away from each other.  
Dean's warnings had saved him many times, but this time they wouldn't.

He was down in the mud almost before he registered the pain of something heavy knocking his legs out from under him.  
He grunted as the air rushed out of his lungs and his head connected with something solid, his eyes crossed for a second as the darkness almost overtook him.  
Sam looked up to see the disturbing grin of a man that looked like he had rolled around in a fire place all his life.  
_I bet that's what he hit me with_, Sam's brain slurred as goliath swung the giant stick up over his head and brought it down like an ax.

_MOVE, SAM!  
_  
The pitchfork handle splintered and snapped under the force of goliaths blow, it wouldn't be much help anymore. The world seemed to shrink to a pin point as his executioner raised his ax again, and still his body refused to move beyond covering his head.

"Drop it," the command cut through the fog along with the click of a cocked gun.

Sam looked up, it wasn't Dean.

**VH**

The tip of the pistol was pressed firmly against the man's temple, showing that he was absolutely serious. The man loosed his hands and the sapling fell to the ground as he looked to his captor.

"What are you doing?" the large man asked looking with hatred at the man at his feet. The boy seemed to be okay as he rolled to his knees and looked up at the dark stranger, his mouth slowly fell open at he took him in.

**SPN**

_Van Helsing, thee Van Helsing just saved me from being wacked with a giant stick_, Sam's mind rambled as he looked up at the man holding a gun to goliath's head, _wait 'til I tell Dean, DEAN!_  
Sam whipped his head around in time to see his brother kick somebody in the balls and whip a sawed off shotgun out of his backpack.

"Back off!" Dean bellowed waving the gun at any other people that might attack them as he slowly reached back and pulled his favorite hand gun out of his waistband.

"You okay Sam?" Dean barked eyeing Sam's savior. The village people slowly backed away from the insane men with guns, except for the monk, who seemed to staring at them in terror.

"What do you think you're doing?!" the Monk exploded towards the other man with a gun. "You're supposed to be helping the town, not the Warlocks."

Dean snorted as he made his way over to Sam and helped him up off the ground; he still seemed a slow disoriented from the rock to the head.

"You think we're Warlocks? Dude that has to be the funniest freakin thing I've heard all day," Dean chuckled as he held up Sam; the guy was grinning freakishly for some reason.

"Dude, it's him," Sam muttered as he took up a position behind Dean picking up his own dropped pack. Dean shot him a look over his shoulder.

"What?" Dean asked squinting as Sam; he really didn't feel in the mood for guessing games at the moment. Sam just grinned his dorky smile and pointed at the guy in the black duster, who had finally let the bruiser go as most of the people decided to not mess with them.

"It's _him_!" He said it as if it was some sort of explanation, stepping closer to the man in the duster and gesturing to him dramatically. The Monk regarded them as if they were insane while the man in the duster looked on with mild amusement.

"Who Sam?" Dean ground out glaring at his brother, hating the entire situation more and more by the second.

"Dean," Sam said softly, still caught in his own disbelief, "He's Van Helsing."

* * *

If you guys have any ideas at all, i'll take them, this fic is turning out harder than I thought it would be, noobies luck I guess.  
I will try to update sooner, but I can't really update if I don't have ideas hint cough sniffle sneeze hint 


	3. So, what's going on?

Authors note: If you're reading this it means I am satisfied with this chapter enough to put it up on the web. If you've checked my profile you will know (maybe) that I am writing this story in advanced and will post when it is near completion. Unfortunately it is not as finished as I want it to be when I post this chapter, but I don't want people to get discouraged.  
If you want updates on my progress with the story or to give me ideas you can check my profile because I usually update it.  
So that's my note that says don't give up hope, and thanks to all you people that have hoped.  
Disclaimer: What do you think?  
Warning: Spoilers for All Hell breaks loose part 2. Mild language, nothing you wouldn't see in the show. Sorry if the characters are off, I have a little trouble with that, can never tweak then quite right.

This was originally going to be titled: Dean vs. Bram Stoker, Carl vs. Strange People.

"_Dean," Sam said softly, still caught in his own disbelief, "He's Van Helsing."_

Dean stared at Sam for a few seconds, processing what he had just heard.

"…Who?" Dean asked, shrugging. Sam lifted his hand about to explain, and then dropped his arm with a wave, dismissing it as a lost cause. Dean was about protest when Van Helsing cut him off.

"As charming as this little guessing game is," He said in a deep voice that had a small hint of a growl to it, "I believe we would find it wise to get away before the villagers find themselves with better arms and decide to come back."

"Seriously, who is he?" Dean whispered leaning towards Sam, Van Helsing had turned with the monk to walk towards one of the larger buildings.

Sam opened his mouth to say something when Van Helsing called back to them, "Are you coming?" The brothers looked at each other for a second, Sam shrugged.

"I think we better go with him, safety in numbers you know." He muttered turning to follow Van Helsing. Dean blinked and ran after him, grabbing his shoulder, and spinning him around.

"What do you mean 'safety in numbers'? All this guy did was prevent some yahoo from clobbering you with a giant stick, and now you want to trust our lives to him, who is this dude?" Dean hissed as they shuffled through the doorway of what appeared to be an inn.

"Dracula…"

"He's Dracula?!"

"Will you shut up for a minute and let me finish. He's not Dracula, he killed Dracula, at least I think, I don't know where we are in the story." Sam muttered as he started up the stairs, Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder and spun him around again.

"Whoa, hold on a second, story?"

"Van Helsing is one of the main characters in the novel 'Dracula' by Bram Stoker," Sam looked at Dean to see if he was getting anywhere, "Come on Dean, this is what we do for a living. Dracula inspired practically everything that came after it; Van Helsing is the most idolized hunters ever written about. Well besides Buffy, but we all know how realistic that was," Sam finished as they came to the room both Van Helsing and the Monk had disappeared into. Dean let out a low whistle as he saw the weapons collection laid out on one of the beds.

"Carl, go down to the stables and get our horses ready, and see if you could find a pair for, Sam and Dean?"

"Uh yeah, I'm Dean and this is my little brother Sam. Winchester, Sam and Dean Winchester," Dean answered as Carl scurried past them.

"Like the gun," Van Helsing stated holding up a Winchester rifle of his own before stuffing it along with many other weapons into a leather packs similar to their own; he finished up by stuffing a large crossbow into its own bag.

"Where do you come from? Your clothing and weapons a different than what we normally see around here. It was probably what convinced the people you were Warlocks," Van Helsing asked as he steered past them and down the stair in the same direction of Carl.

"We're from the Americas, Kansas originally, we've done a lot of traveling," Sam answered for them as they started down the stairs after the pair, "Who's Carl, I mean I've heard of you but never a Monk." He asked steering the conversation always from them, Van Helsing let out a quick bark of laughter.

"Carl's not a Monk, he's only a Friar, and very proud of it. If he catches you calling him a Monk he's likely to do something very brash to assure us all that he isn't a Monk," He explained happily turning out a door that led into an open air stable, Dean looked at Sam questioningly, this world was getting stranger by the minute.

"Between the three of you the inn manager was more than happy to give up two horses for a fair price, they seem to be in good condition to," Carl called as he led a large mahogany colored horse out of a stall, Dean jumped backwards as it snorted loudly.

"No way in hell I'm I getting on a frickin horse, man," Dean hissed shifting under Sam's gaze and scratching the back of his head.

"It's not that bad, just keep cool Dean, if we're gonna try and pull off anything we have to try and blend in," Sam muttered under his breath as he watched Van Helsing and Carl load their packs onto a pair of large black horses. "We don't even know if we'll be able to get back to our own time, so just try and adapt a little will you." Sam seemed to plead a little in the last bit before he moved towards the horses.

**sVs**

Sam couldn't help but laugh at the disgruntled look on Dean's face, part pain, part hatred, pure misery. He had gone horseback riding with Jessica once, it had been pure hell, but like everything else in his life, he adapted.

They had been riding out of the small village for about two hours, the ride had been mostly quite with only a few incidents. Dean had started with his humming therapy until Sam had reached over and smacked him on the shoulder, but other than that, nothing. Mostly it had just been time to think.  
How the hell they were going to get out of here, if they couldn't get out what they would do, exactly how much they should trust Van Helsing with. Eventually after a few twists and turns his mind had come to rest on something darker, the hunt.  
The fairies were long gone and he knew it, he knew Dean knew it to, and that wasn't what was troubling him.

He had read Dracula when he was in one of many high schools. At the time he thought the over exaggeration of the great vampire's powers had been funny, he was no longer laughing. He was a great being that had no apparent weakness, and was a hundred times more powerful than the vampires he had went up against. A vampire from their own modern world had almost taken his life; he would hate to have to go against one of the powerhouses of this world.

_Vampires weren't the only ones with powers that were greater in the stories,_ Sam shuddered slightly at the thought. Van Helsing was said to have killed all types of monsters, some which made his usual hunts look like child's play. Sure, they had taken out the Yellow Eyed Demon. _After I died and Jake opened the gate to hell then we had to have Dad's ghost help us and we used the last bullet from the colt, yeah._

"Hey, Sammy" Dean whispered beside him, leaning towards him off the horse to be heard. Sam snapped to attention taking a few seconds to come to the real world. "What Dean?"

"Did they have toilets in medieval land?" Sam blinked at him for a few seconds wondering if he was actually being serious.

"Dean, we're in the middle of the woods, do you think there are going to be any toilets?"

"No."

"Then stop asking stupid question."

"Gosh, what crawled up your ass and died?" Dean muttered under his breath, Sam glared at him.

"Dean, I'm trying to concentrate on more important thing, like what the hell we're going to do if we can't get back." Sam hissed back leaning over with a scowl. Dean scowled back for a couple of seconds before letting his face fall to something a little softer.

"Yeah, I'm trying hard not to think about it. Then it's kind of hard not to considering the fact that we haven't seen any non fuzzy life forms in the past two hours, and that instead of sitting in the Impala, I'm sitting on a horse," Dean muttered as he tried to shift into a different position in the saddle but only managed to hit sore spots.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out, we always do," Sam tried to say reassuringly.

"Yeah," Dean smiled back, bluffing just as hard.

**vSv**

"What are they saying? Can you hear them?" was Carl's most recent stream of questions about the two brothers that had stumbled into their lives earlier that afternoon.

"Their plotting to kill us Carl," Van Helsing answered dryly, "Their planning on slipping mushrooms into our food while we're sleeping, or maybe even before that," he added, pleasuring in the small rise the Friar gave before realizing the sarcastic joke.

"That's not funny; you already said they have something strange going on about them. I don't want to be left in the dark when that strangeness decides to murder me!" Carl ranted, reaching the higher tones of his voice range. Van Helsing took one of the deep therapeutic breaths that Carl was always urging him to take and turned to face his friend.

"They're not going to try and kill us, the strangeness I was talking about was the fact that their hunters. I'm sure about it now. The darkness is mostly just residue from coming in contact with so many evil things," Van Helsing explained, Carl had the decency to look slightly ashamed for not trusting his friend. Carl rode quietly for a few moments before his head snapped back up.

"What do you mean mostly?" Van Helsing kept quiet for a long moment considering whether or not to tell Carl his suspicions.

"I don't think Sam is entirely human. The darkness is a little bit more deep seeded in him but it seems faded, like he's recovering from something." Van Helsing said slowly as Carl's brows furrowed.

"Like what?" Carl asked.

"Something demonic possibly."

"Like possession?" Carl asked reverting into research mode.

"No, it would be something a lot stronger than possession for it to be at the level it is now." Van Helsing answered cooling scanning the sides of the road.

"How do you know all this stuff?" Carl questioned, already knowing most of the answer, months in the field had changed his opinion of the man he once thought was a barbarian.

"Not now Carl."

"I'm just saying, it's very creeping, almost like a sixth sense." Carl muttered.

"I'll need it were we're heading." Van Helsing grumbled back as he reined his horse off to one side of the road and started to steer him into the dense woods.

"Are we going to take them along with us?" Carl looked behind him to see a slightly annoyed looking Sam explaining something to Dean who was nodding along as he listened. Carl turned his attention back in time to duck a low branch as he followed Van Helsing down the now visible deer trail that led towards an opening in the woods.

"If they follow us." Van Helsing answered as he dismounted in the small clearing about a hundred yards off of the main road.

"Do you think they'll follow us?" Carl's question was answered as he heard a crash behind him and he heard Dean let out a string of curses and other foul words and curses that Carl had never heard before. Turning around he saw Sam trying hard to suppress laughter as Dean rubbed the side of his head; it looked as though he had failed to notice the low hanging branch while he listened to his brother. Carl turned back to Van Helsing with a heavy sigh.

"So, you'll tell them what we're doing now?"

So what do ya'll think? I have the overall arch planned out but I could still use some bits and pieces to fill in the holes around the middle part.  
Sorry to any Buffy fans that I might have offended, I've never actually seen any episodes of Buffy.  
I hope to have the next chapter up by the end of the week, again hope. I may be wrangled into the world of no WiFi before I can update, at that point I will work hard on the upcoming chapters (as I will be doing anyway.)  
Anyway, Reviews? Anybody? Questions, comments?


	4. The Whole Truth

Disclaimer: Duh, of course I own them, and we are _very_ happy. Sob, okay, I lied!Spoiler Warning: if you haven't seen the movie Van Helsing, you probably wouldn't be reading this. But if you haven't seen the end, don't read this chapter.Quick observation: Did you know that the final battle in Van Helsing took place on November 2?

"So, what have you boys hunted before?" Van Helsing asked casually as he slowly turned a rabbit on a spit over the fire. Sam and Dean looked as each other quickly using their nonverbals to figure out what to do. Dean coughed, clearing his throat of the bite of rabbit he had taken just before Van Helsing's question.

"Oh you know whatever comes our way. Some big game, buck and bear, a cat every once and a while." Dean roughed out in a way that would have had a hard time fooling even the stupidest person. Carl frowned as Van Helsing arched a brow quizzically.

"Cut the crap," Van Helsing said sharply, using a term he had picked up from eavesdropping on one of the brothers conversations. "You don't carry a guns like that unless your hunting something a worse than bears. Now let me ask this a little bit straighter, have either of you hunted a werewolf?" Both brothers looked shocked at the so far calm mans outburst, then processing what he said Sam dropped his head into his hands with a heavy groan.

"Yeah we have hunted werewolves, but it didn't go so well and I don't think they were the same type of werewolf you're talking about," Sam answered slowly as he rubbed his face as if that would somehow be the key to relaxing. Dean looked at his brother wondering how far this was going to take them.

"What do you mean different kind of werewolf; I've only heard of one really." Carl muttered getting a faraway look as he tried to think of different types of werewolves. Sam straightened up with a look of determination on his face.

"In our time things have changed and evolved a bit from what they are now," Sam's deadpan statement was met with blank looks from Van Helsing and Carl.

"Until we woke up this morning Dean and I were members of the twenty-first century population. Us being hunters we go after anything that hurts people, and sometimes we mess up. The last hunt we went on was one for a group of fairies that had been taking campers in the Oregon territory. We got jumped and this morning we woke up in the middle of a ring a couple hours hike outside that town. Until we actually saw the town we didn't think anything was to horribly wrong, only that they had transported us across space instead of time. But then when you saved me in the town square I realized that we had been taken to another dimension as well." Everyone sat quite as Van Helsing and Carl let the information sink in.

"So you're from the future and another dimension. How do you know you've crossed dimensions?" Carl asked slowly, you could almost see the gears in his head whirring as fast as they could go.

"'Cause in our dimension you're a character from a story book," Dean shrugged.

"It's not a story book it's a classic novel," Sam corrected him.

"I'm a character from a book?" Van Helsing asked incredulously

"A very popular book, inspired almost everything after it, has several spin offs."

"What's it called?" Carl shot in causing Sam to pause for a second.

"Dracula"

"So it's about how I killed Dracula?"

"You've already killed him then?"

"Yes"

"Well that's good; at least we won't screw up that part of the continuity." Sam sighed in relief

"So, what's this about werewolves?" Dean asked in a strangely upbeat tone.

"Dracula has always controlled the werewolves, controlling and watching them to make sure none were ever strong enough to kill him," Van Helsing was cut off a Dean interrupted him.

"Why would a werewolf want to kill a vampire?"

"Dracula was the first vampire and wasn't susceptible to any methods that would kill a vampire that he created. Carl discovered a painting that depicted a vampire and werewolf fighting and after we found Dracula had a cure for the werewolf virus we put it together that a werewolf was the only thing that could kill him." Dean raised his hand into the air.

"If the only way to kill Dracula is to have a werewolf attack him, how'd you pull that off?" Dean could almost swear he saw a flicker of bone deep pain flash through Van Helsing's eyes before he reached up his hand and undid the top two buttons of his vest. Carl shifted uncomfortably as Van Helsing pulled the loose neck of his high collard sweater down enough to see the faint bite mark that marred the left side of his well muscled chest.

"Oh," Dean's unasked question reverberated through the quite clearing.

"A good friend of mine injected the cure almost right after I killed Dracula, so no I'm not a werewolf but some of the heightened senses have stuck around," There was a hint of rawness as Van Helsing smiled bitterly.

"Is that how you plan to stop the werewolf your hunting?" Sam asked trying to steer the conversation away from Van Helsing's apparently bad memory. Carl quickly picked up the hint.

"Actually it's not so much one werewolf as it is several dozen, so far. By our best guess Dracula never let the werewolves have free rein to attack as many people as they wanted to because it would be harder to control a larger number of werewolves. With Dracula gone the number of werewolves has spiked dramatically over the past several full moons," Carl explained.

"Of course they have," Sam muttered as he dropped his head into his hands again.

"A contact of the Vatican has been working on mass producing a cure that Carl has come up with by studying Dracula's version. We plan on meeting up with him in a town about twenty miles up the road to stock up on weapons that can deliver the cure and maybe some clothes for you two." Van Helsing said recovering from his small slip.

"What's wrong with our clothes?" Dean asked sounding slightly offended, Sam shot him a meaningful look, "Oh yeah, Warlocks."

"Yeah Warlocks," Sam said sharply touching the side of his head tenderly.

For any of you lovely wonderful people that decide to review this chapter, the future is in your hands. I have narrowed it down to two names for my villain that has happily stepped up to Dracula's throne. So what do you think, Orenda or Carling (both have meaning if you care to look them up for a spoiler)Also, I have a non romantic OC planned, if this will offend you please tell me so I don't make her part too big.Last but not least: I will have a small contest going on later were the prize will be either a insert into this story or your own one shot about (almost) anything you choose. Sounds tempting huh? I hope to kick it off around chapter eight or nine (probably nine).

Reviews?


	5. Threads, Guns and Needles

Sorry this is coming so late, I went away on a trip for two weeks and couldn't finish up this chapter before I left. Then I felt like crud when I came back, so sorry for being a lazy bum.  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Supernatural, Van Helsing or the Ghost Rider franchises. I do however own an ugly plastic wall hanging that looks like a patchwork rocking horse from the 70's.Warning: If you haven't seen AHBL1-2 you'll probably want to skip the back half of this chapter. Also if the word 'emo', psychotic fan girls, fictional angels or Fabio offend you, you'll probably want to skip this chapter.

"So, do you have any other name besides Van Helsing? Or is your first name Van but everyone think you're so cool their just like 'Holy crap man, it's _Van Helsing!'_" Dean chattered to Van Helsing as they rode down a stretch of empty forest. Sam and Carl's conversation about inventions of the future and other smart person mumbo jumbo had lost his interest two minutes after it started. It had started when Carl made coffee, two hours ago.

"I've never gone by any other name." Van Helsing stated simply as he watched the woods around them.

"But Van Helsing is a last name; you must have had a first name at some point in time?" Dean shifted in the saddle trying to get off his blisters.

"I don't remember much of anything before the last couple years."

"Do you know why?"

"No." the answer was flat and emotionless.

"So what do you remember?" Dean probed lightly; the guy was like a cast iron safe, inside another safe and then more and more, a million layers of impenetrable armor.

"Horrible things, horrible battles." A small flicker of a half smile, some sort of inside joke?

"Against evil?"

"Human evil." Another number clicked into place and a guard came down, Dean slowly started to turn the knob again.

"How so?"

"Great armies, marching against one another, sometimes I can remember who they are, others I can't." '_Gotcha_'

"Were you a soldier or on the sidelines?"

"The sidelines, usually"

"Maybe you took pictures for the army? You did have cameras in this time right?"

"Yes we do have cameras but no, I didn't take pictures." '_Fumble_'

"So if you didn't take pictures and you can't always remember who was fighting, what were you doing at the battles?" Van Helsing seemed to turn the question over in his head for several seconds.

"It's not from the most reputable source, but I have been called Gabriel," Van Helsing said with a sigh as he twisted a ring that was on his finger. Dean sat for a second taken completely by surprise at the sudden change of direction but quickly decided to roll with it.

"Gabriel like what?" Dean asked curiously wondering why Van Helsing had just taken off his ring and shoved it into a saddle bag.

"Like the Archangel."

"You were named after an angel?" Dean laughed a little as he looked at Van Helsing's face; something about his eyes caught Dean by surprise and shot ice down into his very core. '_Not battles with guns and uniforms, battles with bronze swords __and armor. Not like the Angel, _is_ the __Ange__l.' _Dean broke contact first, heart pounding hard as he somehow realized exactly what Van Helsing was alluding to.

"That's, eh, kinda creepy," Dean choked out dryly taking only side glances at the darkly clad man beside him.

"I suppose you could call me Gabriel if you wanted to, seems how Van Helsing his too much of a mouth full for you," Van Helsing said with a small quirk of a smile. Dean took his chance, rushing back with his favorite defense.

"All right, Gabe," Dean smirked not looking at Van Helsing

"I said Gabriel not Gabe," Van Helsing said flatly as Dean fired his trick back into his face.

"It's too late, once he has you tagged there's no going back. I've been trying to make him stop calling me Sammy for years but there's no hope." Sam called up from where he and Carl were talking, he had apparently caught part of the conversation. Van Helsing turned to look at Dean who had kicked his horse to the lead and had started to loudly sing a song that seemed to make no sense. 'I hunt, Therefore I am, Harvest the land, Taking of the fallen lamb'. Dean Winchester was quickly climbing his list of strangest people he'd ever met, and probably ever would meet.

**vSv**

With the strict instructions not to stick his hand into the right inner pocket 'Gabriel' had lent his black duster to Sam. Dean could scrape by as a wealthy explorer with his leather jacket but Sam's hoodie and the screen tee underneath wouldn't make the cut. Everyone had quickly agreed that Ghost Rider with his flaming Hellcycle and Billy-club would not win over the locals.

Sam tugged fruitlessly on the sleeves of the heavy leather coat in an attempt to make them cover his wrists.

"Hey Sam," Dean hissed from his left as they walked the horses through town.

"What?" Sam muttered rolling his shoulders hoping to make the strange guard that covered them fit better.

"Just be thankful you don't have to wear his pants," Dean snorted causing Van Helsing to shoot a death glare over his shoulder at Dean. Sam had been amazed that Van Helsing had not killed Dean when he had made a crack about 'the greatest hunter of all time wearing emo pants'. Of course Van Helsing hadn't gotten the jab but the meaning had been clear enough.

"Dean, you're insulting possibly the only person that can help us and the only person that is helping us; you do want to see the Impala again don't you?" Sam scolded his brother as Van Helsing and Carl pulled up in front of a larger building that bore the sign 'General Store' with an ax and stalk of wheat crossed over a shirt underneath the lettering.

"Jonathan Webber is the owner of this shop, I'm sure the both of you can find something different to wear while Carl and I stock up on what we'll need," Van Helsing explained as he started tying his horses reins to a post in front of the shop.

There was a bell over the shop door that tinkled happily as they entered alerting the plump woman in back to their presence.

"John, your friends are here!" She called down a set of stairs in the back with a kind but slightly nagging sort of voice before turning back to the group, "My husband should be up in a bit," she said sweetly. A second later a tall bald man with the build of a blacksmith came lumbering up the basement stairs to great them.

"Ah, Carl, Van Helsing," John boomed giving the both of them powerful handshakes in turn, "You're a day early, I hope it was fair weather instead of foul."

"Mostly fair, our newest friends were mistaken for Warlocks and had a little run in with the towns' people over in Eddiesberg. We were hoping you could help us with that, anyway, this is Sam and Dean Winchester." Van Helsing explained introducing the brothers.

"Hunters I presume?" John asked shaking the brothers' hands

"Yeah, but we can double as a lawyer and a mechanic if you want us to." Dean joked happily.

"Can't say we have too much need for either of those around here, so what did you need my help with?"

"Our clothing is a little conspicuous and attention drawing, we were hoping you would have something we could wear instead," Sam explained unbuttoning Van Helsing's coat to reveal the dark brown hoodie underneath.

"Never seen nothing like that before." John mused, "You stuck the hand warmer right on it!"

"Um yeah, so you think you can help us?" Sam asked starting to feel uncomfortable at being inspected so closely. John snapped out of his close examination of the pocket.

"I'm sure Mika can help you find something while I help Van Helsing and Carl, MIKA!" John bellowed the last part causing Sam and Dean jump a little at the proximity of the noise.

"What?!" came a muffled shout from the floor above them.

"I have customers that I want you to help!" John shouted back.

"Coming," came a softer voice as its teenage owner came down the stairs, she smiled politely as she saw the people that filled the shop.

**sVs**

"Try this one on," Mika said as she tossed Sam a dark brown sweater looking thing. Meanwhile Dean was shuffling through several stacks of pants on a table in the corner growing more and more concerned at the lack of the loose fitting pants he was hoping to find. Sam had told him jeans were still a fledgling thing having been invented during the California gold rush, he hadn't said when the gold rush was but apparently most of Europe didn't have jeans.

"I don't think this will fit," Sam muttered holding up the sweater.

"It looks like it would fit your build," Mika retorted as she started looking for more shirts for the brothers.

"Oh you would be surprised, little Sammy packs a lot of muscle on that frame, you should have seen him fighting in the last town," Dean told her as he looked around the store "Hey, where do you change?" Mika stopped examining Sam and turned as disbelieving eye to Dean.

"Where do you think?" Dean's face dropped, he pointed finger towards his feet, Mika nodded. "Were you gonna try that shirt on or what?" Mika asked turning back to Sam. Sam waited patiently for Mica to turn her back but it soon became apparent that she wouldn't, she was quickly working her way onto both of their bad sides. Sam slowly slipped off Van Helsing's coat and tugged off his hoodie and double checked to see if Mika was still watching him, no such luck his tee shirt seemed to draw even more attention to him.

"What does that symbol mean?" Mika asked leaning against the counter, her former harshness was replaced with curiosity.

"Ghost Rider?" Sam asked pointing at his chest, Mika nodded. "Ghost Rider is a type of hunter that was cursed into hunting. Something big and bad came and tricked him into a deal and now he's cursed to be the devils bounty hunter and he uses that curse to hunt evil." Sam explained breaking down the iconic devils rider.

"Why do you wear it?" Mika asked softly. Sam paused for a second.

"Because that's kinda what happened to me." Van Helsing could hear the muffled voice coming through the floorboards over his head.

"As you can see I designed these arrows to work with your crossbow. They carry a combination of the cure and a fast acting sedative that should keep the wolf down long enough for the cure to take effect," John carried on adding another item of ammo to the growing list of things you could shoot a werewolf with to cure it. They had already been shown the solidified version that was shotgun rounds the more aggressive bullet version with a needle tip or the version that was made of soft metal that would split and spill the cure into the victims' veins. Van Helsing highly doubted that this would work, especially since the elephant gun they had been given would probably blast any foes head clean off its shoulders.

"Do you have anything that isn't just modified," Carl asked breaking John's long line of rambling. John turned giving Carl a hard stare.

"Friar, werewolves have been around for hundreds of years and no one's ever figured out how to actually _fix_ one until you found that cure. Now I figure there are only so many ways to get this stuff into one of those beasties blood, so if you come up with a new one, be my guest," John growled before turning to finish his arms inventory.

Half an hour later Van Helsing and Carl started up the stairs from the Webber basement with their arms double loaded with enough weapons for the four of them. Not too many weapons had been added as Carl has stated but most had be upgraded to include silver or some sort of dispensary for the cure formula.

"Well that wasn't very helpful," Carl muttered shifting his bags around so he could see the steps in front of him. "I mean I could have come up with that."

"Stop whining Carl, it's not appealing," Van Helsing reprimanded as he reached the top of the stairs and turned to place his bags against the wall.

"I'm just saying," Carl continued to mutter as he followed suit.

"We didn't have the time to come up with any new weaponry, what Webber came up with will have to do unless you whip up something on the run." Van Helsing said forcefully as he turned to lean against the wall next to the packs. It looked as though Sam and Dean finding satisfactory nineteenth century clothes was proving harder than expected.Dean sat on a stool in the corner shoving on pair after pair of boots praying to find one that both fit and was comfortable. He had already reluctantly settled on a pair of black pants that despite his best efforts we almost skin tight. Mika seemed to be doing her best to sabotage their efforts to find shirts and kept giving them ones that were too small, Dean had given up momentarily and sat without. Sam had miraculously found a pair of brown pants that could hold his lengthy legs and a pair of high black boots to fit his feet. He was currently trying to deal with Mika who had taken an unhealthy obsession with his abs and was trying her hardest to see them as many times as she could.

"Listen," Sam sighed as he squirmed in the too tight green long sleeve that Mika had just conned him into trying on, the hungry look in her eyes was really starting to freak him out. "You must have something that will fit us, I saw several guys that looked close to Dean and my height," Sam chided. Mika scowled and pulled a dun shirt off the table and tossed it at his chest before crossing her arms. Sam held the shirt up to his frame checking that it at least had a chance of fitting, satisfied he tucked the new shirt between his knees and started to wriggle out of the green one.

_"Oh my,"_ the stifled gasp behind him made Sam slap his hand onto his back to cover up the four inch scar that marred the groove of his spine. Turning he saw a wide eyed Carl and a contemplative Van Helsing leaning against the wall behind him.

"That had to have hurt," Van Helsing stated coolly. Sam swallowed hard and turned back so Mika wouldn't see the scar and finished pulling off the shirt.

"You know, old war wounds and battle scars," Sam brushed it off pulling on the new shirt which loose sleeves were too short for his long arms.

"How did you get it?" Carl interjected curiously. Sam sighed as he started digging though the table of shirts praying that it was just Micas' lust that was preventing him from finding the right one.

"I was fighting a demon, thought I took it down but he got back up when I had my back turned," Sam muttered pulling a blue button up out of the pile and holding it up. Pulling off the dun one he tossed it to Dean, who had finally found a brown pair of boots, and slipped on the blue shirt sighing in relief as it fit.

"Wow," Carl said under his breath, "You must have great medical knowledge where you come from, get a wound like that here and you'll die in minutes." Carl was completely oblivious to the discomfort that rolled off the brothers in waves; it made the hair on the back of Van Helsing's neck stand up.

"Um, not to interrupted or anything," Dean butted in before Carl could get too carried away; he already knew it was too late to keep Van Helsing off their track. "I kinda think my sleeves are gonna catch on something." For emphasis Dean flapped his arms slightly waving the sleeves of the shirt that reminded him horribly of Fabio. '_The__ things I do for my brother_'

"Yeah, and it still is kinda cold out there and I can't wear my jacket, so." Sam joined in the scrabble to get the subject off of his scar. Dean nodded his head vigorously and made faces of agreement before he spotted something flying at him out of the corner of his eye. Turning he managed to catch the bundle of leather that Mika had launched his way, she had a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face, that couldn't be good.

Dean slowly unfolded the bundle, it consisted of a leather vest that was a near match in color to his jacket and a matching pair of what appeared to be arching guards that would probably cover his entire forearm. Sam soon found himself in possession of a dark brown corduroy jacket that looked nearly identical to something he owned in the future. Dean had slipped on the vest and guards and was surprised and slightly horrified to find that they fit perfectly and solved his problem of loose sleeves. He looked over at Mika knowing that he had been played into almost everything he was wearing.

"You could probably wear your jacket over that if you get cold," Mika said trying her best to sound innocent, Dean nodded agreement with a forced grin.

"Perfect," Sam and Dean said almost together.

Sam and Dean shoved their old clothes into their rucksacks as Van Helsing paid for the services the Webbers had performed. Slipping on his jacket Dean grabbed his bag and one of the new weapons bags to help Carl attach them to the horses, Sam followed suit after tossing Van Helsing's coat to him.

"They're rather scary aren't they?" Carl muttered as he helped Dean put one of the bags on his horse.

"Scary does not even begin to describe that kid; she was startin' to freak me out. Reminded me of this gig where Sam and I hunted this clown that was killing people, thing had the freakiest smile I've ever seen." Dean shuddered as Van Helsing came down off the porch of the Webbers store.

"Hey, Dean," Van Helsing called as he quickly fastened his bag onto the horse.

"Hum?" Dean grunted as he mounted, rather surprised at how much easier it was with his new pants.

"Who wears emo pants now?" Dean tried hard not to laugh at Van Helsing's comeback, the time tone and person saying it made it completely hilarious instead of insulting. Dean had almost stifled the urge but then he looked at Sam and both of them busted up laughing. Carl looked lost as usual as he turned his horse and started to lead the way out of town.

Mika, Sam and Deans first fan girl.Van Helsing saying emo pants, like Optimus Prime saying eBay.Sam's Ghost Rider shirt was meant to be a gift from Dean because Sam is like ghost rider, except for the whole flaming skeleton thing. Imagine the look on Deans face if Sam turned into Ghost Rider… Oh no, I'm sensing a plot bunny.Strange thing: A couple days after I finished this chapter I was watching 1 vs. 100, and Fabio was on! And he was wearing a shirt eerily similar to the one I picked for Sam, man that guy is _huge_! And gross.Now that I think about is Sam really is an idiot for not realizing he was killed. They told him he was out for, what three days? My Dad had surgery and was in the hospital for a week, then a week later they took out the twenty staples and over two later he still isn't looking as good as Sammy.


	6. Just like Richardson

LOOK! It's an update!

I have several excuses for being so late in updating this, none of them are very good and I'm sure none of you will care enough to read them.  
1. My stepmother loves vacation, she has to be active on her vacation and because of this I was not able to write anything for over a week, I couldn't escape.  
2. I then suffered massive brain block and can't seem to work this chapter to the way I want it.  
3. I then gave up on this chapter a moved on to the next one, which I am having writers block with as well.  
4. Three words: Sims Expansion pack. I'm back on a major Sims kick and will probably try to figure out how to write stories with them.  
5. I'm now trying to wrangle up money for Sims seasons, and season 2, clothes and possibly comic books.  
6. I would also like to mention I have a cold and will start school in a few days which means updates will probably come even slower.  
Disclaimer: "I know, I'll find a fairy ring! Go back in time! And market the idea before Kripke!"  
2nd Disclaimer: I do not judge people that write horror stories, I just generally don't like horror, well slasher and psychological thrillers.  
Warning: If you like Vampire romance or Paris Hilton, sorry I don't. I changed some of the names in this chapter last minute and I'm pretty sure I got them all but I'm not 100 sure.

"Ow! Ow dangit! _Crap_!" Were the sounds that greeted Dean as he opened his eyes first thing in the morning, but add a few hisses and the sound of the nearby creek. Dean's eyes fluttered for a few seconds getting used to the light, '_Day three of life in Bram Stokers… Dude, what type of messed up psycho writes horror stories… and what the frick is up with Vampire romances, yeesh!_' Dean rolled over as his brain slowly came online.

Not far away, maybe twenty feet, Sam sat on a rock at the side of the stream they had camped next to. At the current moment it appeared as though he was trying to shave with a straight razor, with disastrous results. Sam leaned forward, scooped up a handful of water and massaged it into the side of his throat before carefully scraping the razor across it.

"Ow! That's it, I give up!" Sam growled as a small trickle of blood ran down from where he had just tried to shave. Dean tried to stifle his laughter as Sam pouted holding one hand against his newest cut and slammed the small shave kit back into its case with the other. Another snicker came from Dean's left and he noticed that Carl was sitting up and making…

"Bacon!" Dean uttered with reverence as he slipped out of the bedroll he had been given and propped himself up on a rock next to the fire pit, he smacked his lips happily as Carl passed him a few pieces that were already done.

Sam slouched over as he buttoned up his shirt to join in with breakfast, Dean looked up at him.

"Dude, you look like your face got attacked by a lawnmower." Dean laughed as he crunched away happily at his bacon, it was slightly overdone, but he would survive. Sam shot him a sarcastic smile that clearly said 'shut up'. Carl watched the exchange closely.

"I forgot what 'Dude' means" Carl said as Van Helsing stepped into the camp with a bundle of sticks that he had apparently collected for firewood. Dropping the wood Van Helsing looked from Carl to Dean then Sam.

"What happened to your face?" Sam looked like all he wanted to do was crawl under a rock, or smash one.

"In the twenty-first century razors don't look like that. And if you think my face looks bad, you should see Dean try to shave, he uses and electric razor." Sam cut out before he snatched up a piece of bread and ripped a bite out of it.

"Little bro' I don't plan on shaving unless I start looking like Dad or Bobby… or Ash and you for that matter. But if the time comes when I will be forced to shave, you will find me with a pair of scissors and a comb, not some pocket knife death trap like that thing." Dean said happily as he picked up a piece of bread to go with his bacon.

"So what's a lawnmower?"

**Seven hours later**

They had arrived at the small town of Kissinger at about one o'clock in the afternoon. From the information Carl had received from Rome he had noticed that the quite mining town had been hit hardest by the recent werewolf attacks. Thirty people taken, either missing unexplained for over two weeks or witnessed being ripped off into the hills by werewolves. Only three people had managed to escape the tragedies that had come to their fellows, those were the people that they were focusing on today along with the other less involves eye witnesses.

Van Helsing had taken Lilith Vanderpool, a 'motherly' woman that had been gathering wood up in the foothills when her two nephews, Tom and Duncan, had been taken. She had already confirmed that Duncan had been bitten, savagely, in the side of the neck.

Dean had hastily snatched up the young Vivian Carliner who had been part of a root gathering party that had been attacked and dragged off into the woods, she had barely managed escaping.

Carl had reluctantly taken the sad case of Harold Evans who had walked out of the local pub with his buddy to be plowed to the ground by a werewolf. The beast mistaking him for dead was the only reason he had been left behind.

This left Sam to scout out the other witnesses that hadn't been directly involved in the attacks. He was glad that his new clothes allowed him to pass amongst the villagers without being noticed, but his was still getting used to the pants and he had never worn a pair of boots quite so high.He jogged up the high street with a list of three names in his hand; he had gotten a lock on the first one, Madison Park.

**Van Helsing**

"It just that, everything seemed fine and then I heard a few twigs snap above us, I thought it was squirrels." Lilith Vanderpool related to Van Helsing as she politely served him tea. She took a deep rattling breath as she sat down and tried to compose herself. "Then I just heard this great scratching sound and Tom shouting. When I turned around I saw them, horrible things, huge furred beasts with massive claws and teeth," Lilith's body shook as she let out a sob, she composed herself enough to carry on in a shaking voice. "The first one had already grabbed Duncan by the time I figured out what was happening and the second one chased and grounded Tom in a matter of seconds. Both of the boys were shouting for me to run, and I knew they would take me to if I didn't. I saw them bite Duncan, it was…" At this point Mrs. Vanderpool could go no further and broke down completely.

Van Helsing hated this part of his job, having to deal with the people whose lives had been torn asunder by the monsters he hunted. Part of it witnessing the overwhelming grief these people felt for their brothers who had fallen, and part of it was knowing no one would ever feel that way about him.

"I know it's difficult Mrs. Vanderpool, but I promise you my associates and I will do all we can to bring your nephews back to you." Van Helsing said softly trying to comfort her; she lifted her head and blinked at him with red eyes.

"But there's no cure for being a werewolf?" She asked hopefully.

"It was discovered recently, only a few months ago." Van Helsing explained.

"Really, how did they manage to do it?" Mrs. Vanderpool asked, a new hope had come into her eyes at the mention of the cure.

"It was reveres analyzed from a cure that had been privately manufactured."

"Who would make a thing like that and then keep it from the world?" Mrs. Vanderpool asked sounding disturbed; Van Helsing smiled bitterly as he set down his empty tea cup.

"Dracula." Mrs. Vanderpool gaped at him.

"That monster, he gets worse with every story I hear about him, the only good one I've ever heard is that he's dead!" She said spitefully.

"Yes, Dracula truly was a monster." Van Helsing agreed as he stood up from the sofa, Mrs. Vanderpool stood up also seeing that her guest was ready to go.

"I just thankful we have people like the hunter that killed him to even it out. What was his name again, Van Halen?"

"Van Helsing. Anyway thank you for your time Mrs. Vanderpool, I promise to do everything in my power to save your nephews."

"Thank you Mr. Gabriel." Mrs. Vanderpool said kindly as he walked off the front porch.

**Sam**

"Yeah, it was like, really horrible, those girls were just out doing the laundry on the bluff and then they were just gone." Madison rambled as she shuffled around the shop straightening canned and jarred goods. She was nothing like the Madison he had loved, the Madison he had killed out of mercy. Ever since the night Van Helsing had told them what he was hunting her face had rushed into Sam's mind whenever he wasn't occupied. He could still see the way she smiled, could remember what it felt like to twist his fingers in her hair, the heat of her flesh, the way she tasted, the softness of her lips. This Madison on the other hand reminded Sam of a mall rat, sort of like Paris Hilton but not so slutty, more innocent and curious with big doe eyes.

"So you didn't actually see the attack?" Sam asked as Madison swept her blond tresses behind her ear, at his words she clapped her hand to her chest.

"If I had actually seen those girls disappear, I don't think I would be able to sleep at night. I've never actually seen a werewolf, so I'm kind of blissfully unaware. Cause everyone says their horrible, but I don't really know how horrible, ya' know what I mean?" Madison jabbered as she zipped her nails up and down the chain of her necklace. Sam nodded with an 'understanding' smile; he was really starting to dread the hunt to come.

**Dean**

"So, you're actually a professional hunter, that's what you do for a living?" Vivian as she played her tongue around inside her mouth. Dean sighed as he leaned up against the pub bar; he looked Vivian in the eye.

"Sometimes it's hard, but I solider through it. The lives I save make it worth it through; if I can spare someone the pain I've gone through, it helps me feel… complete." Dean said playing up the emotion; he was rewarded by a sympathetic smile from Vivian.

"Aw, poor guy." Vivian cooed as she reached back to the tap and poured him a mug of beer and sat it before him. He gave her a soft thankful smile and took a drink, it hit the back of his throat with a burn that made his eyes water. He set the beer down and put his hand over his pursed lips. Vivian gave him a sweet look mistaking his discomfort for emotions.

"So I have to ask you about the werewolf attack that you witnessed, I know it might be hard, but it could save lives." Dean said as he regained his composure. Vivian's seductive tone dropped as she slumped forward to lean against the counter. Dean couldn't help but notice how the black disk of her necklace was caught in between her breasts and didn't swing forward on its chain. Compared to all the other women in this time, she dressed quite seductively.

"There was about five of us, a couple guys helping us girls dig up roots. It was a little over a month ago, before the leaves came in on the trees so it was pretty easy to check around us. I… I think I saw them first. There was a glint of metal, or something that caught my eye. I couldn't make out what I was seeing at first, thought it might be a boar or something, and I was really afraid." Vivian slowly traced her finger along a gouge mark in the counter top as she talked slowly, sadness playing through her voice. "I think I figured out what it really was at the same time it noticed I was watching it. After that it was a big blur of running, I heard lots of screaming, and pounding footsteps behind me. Then I tripped and rolled down a hill and I don't think it wanted to follow me." Vivian bit her lip as she hugged her shoulders.

Dean walked around the corner of the bar they had been standing at and put a tender arm around her, she gratefully burrowed into his chest gently latching one hand onto his vest.

"I'm sorry I have to put you through this," Dean said gently, Vivian turned her dewy gaze up to him and smiled, Dean smiled back.

**Sam**

"Mrs. Haynes?" Sam asked as he dropped down next to the elderly woman that sat crooked over and frowning in a rocking chair on her front porch. She looked down at him in his squatting position and sat for a few moments before nodding curtly with an added twist to her scowl.

"Mrs. Haynes, I'm Sam Winchester, I'm here to talk to you about the werewolf attack you witnessed last week." As soon as the words left his lips Gertrude Haynes shot him a look that could have boiled flesh.

"You one of those horrible reporters that chassed tragedy cases and explodes them all over the newspaper pages?" Mrs. Haynes growled at him.

"No no no Mrs. Haynes, I'm not a reporter. I'm here with a hunting party that's looking to take care of the werewolf problem." Sam quickly explained, Mrs. Haynes still gave him a spiteful look.

"Do you enjoy shooting little children?" the question knocked Sam for a loop as he frantically scrabbled for every possible meaning of the revolting assumption. Mrs. Haynes spoke before he could come up with an answer. "Because little Markus and Sebastian Kattalakis are less than ten years each and I don't care about all that hooey that says their only monsters. My father killed a werewolf once, I saw the man he once was before he died, and that boy couldn't have been more than seventeen years old." Mrs. Haynes continued sharply, Sam sat quietly for a few seconds before looking up at her.

"I know that people can't always choose what happens to them Mrs. Haynes, and I know that being bitten by a werewolf one of the worst possible things that can happen. I understand that inside these people are still human, I know because I once fell in love with a werewolf." Sam explained tenderly, Mrs. Haynes looked down at him.

"Sicko!"

**Carl**

Carl found Harold Evans slumped in an ally way and smelling strongly of absinth. The drunken and dazed look seemed to age him past his fifty some years.

"Um, Mr. Evans? I'm here to ask you about what happened to you a couple weeks back." Carl muttered out nervously as he looked at the obviously drunk man. Harold lolled his head to look at Carl with glazed over eyes. Carl shuffled nervously.

"I was just wondering about what happened to you and Bartholomew Alexander when you walked out of the local pub that night." No response.

"I was just wondering what happened when you were attacked by that werewolf and were almost killed and your friend was taken while you pretended to be dead?" Carl managed to get out of the way before the empty absinth bottle connected with his head.

**Sam**

Jordan Walker was the last person on Sam's list; he really hoped that he would have more information than the first two. He also really hoped that he would have better luck with this blacksmith than the last one he had run into, at least the swelling was starting to go down.

"Hello? Anyone here?" Sam called as he entered the front portion of the blacksmiths shop. He heard a clang from the back of the shop along with someone uttering several curses, a few seconds later a man in a leather apron and a large brown beard popped his head around the door to the back workroom.

"Whatcha want?" he asked in a gruff voice as he pulled his hands out of a pair of large leather gloves and wiped them with a rag. Sam relaxed visibly determining that this man would not try to kill him.

"I'm here to ask you about the disappearance of the Quinn twins, just wondering what you saw mostly" Sam said, Mrs. Haynes had really put him out by calling him a sicko. Jordan stood there for a few seconds, it looked like he was chewing on the corner of his lip but it was hard to be sure with his massive beard, after few seconds he laughed.

"Sad thing those two being taken, good kids, real good kids." Mr. Walker muttered as he sat down on a stool and gestured for Sam to take a seat.

"So how much did you actually see happening Mr. Walker?" Sam asked as he sat and propped his feet up on one of the rungs of the stool he was sitting on.

"Whatcha want from it, you're not one of dem pesky reporters are ya?" Mr. Walker said as he sort of puffed himself up to look more like a bruiser.

"NO!" Sam said quickly almost leaping off the stool. "I'm here with a team to try and get to the root of these attacks, we believe there might be a way to solve them." Explained Sam really hoping this wouldn't turn the way of Mrs. Haynes. Mr. Walker sat for a few seconds.

"Oh, that's all good, though I don't see how you can solve werewolf attacks." Mr. Walker frowned as he appeared to be thinking.

"Well Mr. Walker wolves are generally a species of animal that likes to stay in a pack, so we figure that there may be a den of some sort around here, and if we can find the den we can stop these attacks from happening anymore." Sam quickly launched into scientific babble that he hoped would reassure Mr. Walker, it only seemed to confuse him, so Sam quickly moved on. "So, can you tell me what you did see of the attack?" Mr. Walker nodded quickly.

"Yeah, I was up in my room over the shop cleanin' up some of my tools and I was sort of watching Z and Brandon out in the meadow practicing sword play." Explained Mr. Walker.

"Z and Brandon? I'm sorry the information I have isn't very complete, I'm gonna have to ask you to elaborate." Sam interrupted quickly; he needed to get back to the inn where they were all supposed to meet when they were done. Mr. Walker paused for a second.

"Well Brandon is the boy, hard worker, always lookin out for his sister Z. Z is short of Xanthea, which I really don't get because Xanthea starts with an X."

"I see, now what can you tell me about the attack, every detail is important."

"Well Z and Brandon were practicing with sticks; Z has this fancy sword that was given to her by a gypsy or something, so she's trying to learn how to use it. So she was out there trying to beat up Brandon which is actually pretty funny because he's about six inches taller than her. Well I was watchin em and havin a good laugh when suddenly Z stops and just stares into the forest and then she starts pointing something out to Brandon. Next think I know there's a couple of werewolves runnin out of the woods and Z and Brandon are running for all their worth, they still got taken down though." Mr. Walker heaved a heavy sigh.

"Did you notice anything strange about the werewolves; they do seem to be acting rather weird in my opinion." Sam asked, he was starting to feel depressed about all the people being turned into werewolves. Mr. Walker took another long pause.

"Well, I did notice that there was some sort of something metal around both of the werewolves' necks, might have been a necklace that didn't fall off when they transformed or something?" Mr. Walker shrugged.

"Is that all you remember?" Sam asked, another long pause.

"Yep."

"Well thank you for your time and valuable information." With that Sam go up and exited the shop to start sprinting down the street.

He arrived at the room at the inn a few minutes later breathing heavily as he pushed open the door. Dean and Carl looked up at him as he stood panting in the doorway.

"Are you being chased by an angry mob?" Dean asked with a smirk as he lounged on a bed hands behind his head and one foot propped up on his other knee bobbing slightly. Sam looked at him, he recognized that smirk.

"_You didn't._" Sam almost hissed out in disbelief as he pulled himself into the room. Dean sat up abruptly and looked offended.

"What? Is there some sort of rule that says we can't have fun?" Carl looked back in forth between them having no clue what was going on.

"Yeah Dean, you can have fun, but not that sort of fun."

"I've always had that sort of fun, what makes now any different?" Dean had gotten off the bed and was now standing only a few feet away from Sam.

"Dean," Sam said disbelievingly, "we're stuck in the eighteen hundreds, people don't do stuff like that."

"Yeah well she did." Dean replied cockily. Sam was about to say something more when Carl stepped in between the two of them.

"What's going on?" Carl's voice had acquired that whiney tone he has a way of hitting when he got nervous or confused. Both Sam and Dean scowled before Sam answered.

"Dean went out and, um… I can't believe I'm saying this, um… had sex, um… with a woman he barely knew." Sam forced out feeling extremely embarrassed admitting what Dean had done to a man that had devoted his life to religion.

"Dude, you're telling Carl! Are you nuts, the guy practically screams 'I'm a virgin!'" Dean shot back; Sam was about say something about how Carl at least had morals when…

"I AM NOT!" Carl exploded; Sam and Dean stepped back away from him looking stunned. After as few seconds Dean cracked a wide smirk.

"All right Carl!" Dean laughed as he went to give Carl a high-five, Carl didn't understand the motion so Dean settled for punching him playfully on the shoulder. Sam sat down and sighed heavily as he shook his head, Van Helsing chose this time to enter. He looked around the room much like he had looked around the fire earlier that morning, this time he chose not to ask.

Grrrr: I don't like the way this chapter turned out. I mean it's not bad it's just, I think it could be better, but I'm not sure how  
For some odd reason I had to bring up the fact that: Van Helsing the dashing hero got one passionate kiss from the princess. Carl the dorky sidekick did it with the barmaid, in the library!  
I have no clue why Van Helsing comes in last.  
For some reason I never liked Madison, probably because the relationship was rushed and I don't believe in loose sex.  
Kissinger is actually the name of an artist that came in the sample music on the computer I'm writing this on, and so is Madison Park, both of them are fairly good, for sample music.  
So what do you guys think? Any constructive criticism, comments or ideas? I'm a review whore and will generally give good replies and answer any question(s).  
**Wanted:** My story needs stuffing for its middle, if you have **any** ideas I would be very grateful if you shared them with me.


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